


how to mend a broken heart

by yoogiboobi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (sorry), Brotherly Love, Comfort Food, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, and some good ol', unrequited AtsuKita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 12:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30122574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoogiboobi/pseuds/yoogiboobi
Summary: And, oh, Atsumu had free fallen.How could I not, he’s easy to loveis what he’d told Osamu months ago. Disgustingly honest drunken words spoken when Osamu had asked him—warnedhim—if he wasn’t setting himself up for certain heartbreak.—Atsumu comes home one night with a broken heart.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	how to mend a broken heart

—

The front door opens and closes. Osamu hears it from the kitchen, above the sound of the running tap. Only Atsumu and Suna know the code to let themselves in but Suna is away to see his family and Atsumu usually announces his arrival loud and clear. He closes the tap and listens for a greeting as he wipes his hands.

And yet—silence.

“Atsumu?” he tries.

Still no reply. He crosses the kitchen to peek his head out the door just in time to see his brother sitting on the couch with tired abandon, facing away from him. He’s either using his wireless earbuds or he’s purposely ignoring Osamu for some reason.

“I’ve been calling you all afternoon. Needed to know if you were gonna be home for dinner,” Osamu says as he rounds the couch and tries to get his attention. “Where have you been?”

Atsumu has his legs stretched limply in front of him and his head rests against the back of the couch, arms folded over his eyes. No earbuds. Osamu feels his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly—something is up.

“I was with Kita-san,” Atsumu mutters.

Okay. Not unusual. _But_ —

“He called, said there was a new boba place he wanted—,” his voice cracks, “he wanted to try.”

A bit unusual, only because being Kita’s boba buddy is usually Aran’s job. Still, nothing too out of the ordinary.

But then—Atsumu’s lips tremble, the corner of his mouth drops. His expression tightens as he tries to fight it, but it’s stronger than him. Osamu’s heart sinks. He shrugs his apron off and takes a seat on the couch next to Atsumu.

“‘Tsumu,” he calls softly, hesitantly, like he has suddenly found himself walking on thin ice. One wrong move and it will shatter.

Atsumu swallows once, twice, as if he’s bracing himself for what he’s about to say.

“I told him,” he shares, letting the words hang in the air like dust in the sunset light. “I told him and he—,” he repeats, but his voice fails him; it comes out hoarse yet paper-thin. He swallows around the lump in his throat once more and tries again. “I told him. And he—he doesn’t. He doesn’t—”

The ice cracks and the dam breaks and Atsumu tries to hide his entire face in the crook of his elbows but it’s too late—Osamu can see as his chest is wracked with the brute force of his first muted sobs, the way he’s gripping his own arms too hard, fingers wound so tight his knuckles turn white. 

Osamu doesn’t have to ask what he’s talking about. He knows, just the same way he knows the end of the sentence Atsumu doesn’t manage to finish. With one hand on his elbow, he tries to nudge Atsumu’s arms away from his face. Atsumu gives in and looks at him with red-rimmed eyes and fat tears rolling down his face. He’s a wreck.

“He doesn’t,” he repeats pitifully, like those are the only words replaying on loop in his mind, rendering him incapable of even finishing the thought.

_He doesn’t love me back._

Osamu feels his own chest tightening with concern, with empathy—with love for his brother. When Atsumu leans forward to hide his face in his hands again, elbows on his knees, and really lets it all out, Osamu shuffles closer to him and puts an arm over his back. His hand squeezes his shoulder, a small sign of support, and lets him cry.

“I knew it,” Atsumu says after, when his sobs have subdued enough to allow him to speak. “From the very beginning, I knew it. But I still let myself fall.”

And, oh, Atsumu had free fallen. _How could I not, he’s easy to love_ is what he’d told Osamu months ago. Disgustingly honest drunken words spoken when Osamu had asked him— _warned_ him—if he wasn’t setting himself up for certain heartbreak. And yet, at the same time, Osamu had thought his brother was the only person alive on the planet not related to Kita by blood who could ever say such a thing. Loving Kita Shinsuke requires a certain level of mental fortitude that not many mortals possess. And perhaps for that reason alone, he thought that maybe Atsumu could still stand a chance.

“He knew it too. Said he’d known about my feelings for a while. And I knew that, too. We both did. And I thought I was ready to have this conversation, to move on, but—”

Osamu rocks him lightly as Atsumu takes a stuttering breath, reminding him that he’s still there next to him, listening in silence, just _being_ there for him, as his brother, as his best friend. Surprisingly, Atsumu leans (collapses) into the embrace until it becomes something close to a hug, with Atsumu’s head against his chest and Osamu’s arm wound tight around his shoulders. _Surprisingly_ because their bond lies in small actions and unconditional trust and because, if he ever cared to do so, Osamu could count on the fingers of both of his hands all the times they had physically seeked comfort in each other. And so, naturally, he makes this time count too by hugging Atsumu even tighter.

“I love him. _I love him_ ,” he croaks out, throat so tight his voice barely manages to leave him. “I don’t know what to do—what do I do, ‘Samu?”

Despite Atsumu’s painful awareness of how one-sided his feelings were, it had been obvious to Osamu that his brother had never truly extinguished the tiny spark of hope inside him. Instead, he’d nurtured it, kept it under control, smaller than a lit match, but in Atsumu’s eternally fiery and inflammable core even that had been too much. Osamu imagines he’d faltered and allowed his insides to catch fire just moments before he opened his mouth to confess. He’s still in embers now, burnt out and brittle. Tomorrow he’ll be all ashes; a chance to start anew.

Osamu speaks in a level voice, hoping to bring Atsumu back up from whatever place he has crawled into.

“You’re going through the worst of it right now, ‘Tsumu. It will hurt today and it will hurt tomorrow too, but time is your friend. It will hurt a little less the day after and even less the day after that, until it doesn’t hurt anymore. Until he’s your cherished friend again, and nothing more. In the meantime you put that thick head of yours to good use and think about other things—you live your life.” And Atsumu is so good at that— _living_. Facing each day with endless appetite for life itself, for all it has to give. There’s so much more to it than unrequited love and broken hearts. Osamu jostles him and squeezes the back of his neck, here to remind him of exactly that. “And then, eventually, you will find someone who will love you as much as you love them.”

Atsumu’s body trembles and hiccups in the aftermath of his heartbreak. There are tears running down his wrist where he has the heel of his hand pressed against one of his eyes, but Osamu can tell he is mulling over his words, internalizing them.

Though, not exactly in the way he meant him to.

“I really wanted that person to be him, you know,” Atsumu says. “Just him. And I wanted to be that person for him too.”

“ _Oi_ ,” Osamu grumbles, allowing his voice to turn chastising for a moment as he pinches the tip of Atsumu’s ear, “quit it. Twisting my words like that will get you nowhere, ya hear me?”

“I know. Sorry.” With a sniffle, Atsumu sits up and wipes his puffy face with the back of his hands. There’s a weak smile tugging at his lips, no doubt mocking his own pitiful state and petulant words. “But give a man a moment to self-commiserate, will you?”

“Not if it makes you feel like shit. And your self-commiseration started the second you walked through the door.”

“Fuck off,” Atsumu scoffs as he shrugs Osamu’s arm off his back. There’s no real bite behind it. He’s not crying anymore, at least; a small first step.

Osamu allows him a few more moments to recover. Then, “Have you eaten yet?”

Atsumu shakes his head. “Not hungry.”

“I made pho. You sure you don’t want any? I’ll have to call Aran to come try it if you don’t.”

“Pho?” Atsumu perks up, even though he’d seen Osamu fussing over the bones for the broth the previous night and earlier that morning. He’d got so lost in his head that he’d probably forgotten. “Oh, right. Pho. Maybe. Sounds good,” he replies with a little sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

Osamu’s expression softens. He shoves Atsumu slightly to prompt him into standing up. “Alright, go wash your face. I’ll get the food.”

Not long after, there are two steaming bowls of pho on the low table by the couch. Osamu also brings blankets (for added comfort), a box of tissues (just in case), and Atsumu’s fox plushie from when he was a child (out of fondness, yes, but also because he likes to mess with his brother, even when he’s sad).

Atsumu emerges from the bathroom, face washed, in comfy cotton pants and a big long-sleeved shirt. He sits next to Osamu, but not before muttering _I’m not a five year old child_ when he sees the well-loved fox. He does keep it in his lap as he gets settled, however.

They eat sitting on the floor, backs against the couch and legs tucked under the table as they watch a movie they’ve both seen at least a dozen times. The pho is hearty and warm, like a hug; the movie is easy and familiar. The sense of togetherness—of _brotherhood—_ between them is all of that and more.

Atsumu is asleep before the movie’s end. Osamu trusts he will be okay.

—

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes all you need is a caring sibling and warm food~
> 
> if you're new here and in the mood for requited atsukita after reading this wretched thing, allow me to suggest my [«a place to return to»](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974127) series where they love each other v much. 99% guaranteed to heal your soul
> 
> comments are always appreciated c:
> 
> —  
> [twt ♡](https://twitter.com/yoongoboongi)


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